


a flicker in the deep

by ohallows



Series: cloud country [7]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Gen, you know the scene where wilde breaks into hamid’s flat? yeah this is that basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: He likes being here, more than he thought he would, and it’s a nice change from how his life has felt for the past few years. More settled, somehow, as though this where he was meant to belong all along. It’s easy for Hamid to lean against the door as soft pop music plays from Zolf’s radio, windows down and wind blowing gently across his face.





	a flicker in the deep

**Author's Note:**

> the title makes no sense shhh

The truck rumbles slowly along the road in the dark as Zolf drives Hamid back from the farm. He’s been staying there later as the summer begins to come to an end and he starts being able to open the shop a little bit later in the mornings. It’s hard to believe that he’s already been in Dunnock Town for nearly eight months; the shop is doing better than he expected, even with the few rough patches at the beginning that he decidedly refuses to think about. He has friends in the town, actual friends who care about him and his feelings, not like how Liliana and Gideon and Bertie would treat him. 

He likes being here, more than he thought he would, and it’s a nice change from how his life has felt for the past few years. More settled, somehow, as though this where he was meant to belong all along.

It’s easy for Hamid to lean against the door as soft pop music plays from Zolf’s radio, windows down and wind blowing gently across his face. 

“Can you come check something? One of the monster parts keeps… moving,” Hamid says as they get closer to the house, shuddering.

Zolf laughs. “It’s probably supposed to, Hamid.” 

“Please?” Hamid says, drawing the word out. He knows that he’s whining. a little bit, but he swears that he heard it moving around the shop the night before instead of only moving around in its box.

“Alright, I suppose,” Zolf says, throwing the truck into park as they pull into Hamid’s driveway. 

Hamid gives him a grateful smile before they start heading up the walk, until something catches his eye.

“Zolf, why is the light on in the house?” Hamid whispers urgently, tugging at Zolf’s arm to get him to stop walking. 

“Uh, did you, maybe, leave it on?” Zolf asks, raising an eyebrow at Hamid as he continues on, ignoring Hamid’s near-vice grip on his bicep. Hamid is unwillingly pulled along as Zolf walks forward. 

“Definitely not, I always turn the lights off before leaving, and they’re even on a timer to have turned off an hour ago! They shouldn’t be on,” Hamid says, heart beat getting faster as they get closer to the house. “No, this is as far as I go, actually.”

Zolf doesn’t sound as much annoyed as he does vaguely confused and tired as he answers. “Hamid, this is your house. We’re not just going to stay out here all night. Buck up, yeah?”

Hamid must pout enough that Zolf sighs and drags him around to the shop side, unlocking the door with his own spare key. “We can go in through here. If there’s anyone inside, they won’t expect it, alright?”

That is definitely not as comforting as Zolf must have thought it would be, and Hamid gives him a reproachful look even as the door pushes open into the dark shop. They both move quietly through the store, and Hamid tries very hard to ignore the soft squishing noise from the corner where all of the monster parts are, but he does give Zolf a capital-L Look. Zolf shrugs.

“It’s nothing to worry about, probably just some of the slime. Can’t hurt you.” 

Hamid isn’t sure that he’s any more comforted after that, but he has rather more pressing issues to deal with in the form of someone potentially having broken into his house than the apparently harmless monster bit in the corner. They reach the door and Zolf rests his hand on the handle, motioning for Hamid to be quiet as he slowly pushes the door open and steps into the house.

Nothing seems out of place at first. The light over the kitchen is on, but doesn’t stretch far. Hamid creeps along behind Zolf, only just refraining from clutching at his jacket. 

“Good evening, gentlemen.” A silky voice comes out of the shadows and Hamid positively shrieks, jumping and colliding with Zolf, who catches and steadies him.

“What the hell!” Hamid cries, staring at the tall, dark-haired man who is positively lounging on his sofa. “Who the hell are you! What are you doing in my home?”

There’s a glass of red wine in his hand, and Hamid glances over at his now-open wine cabinet. One of the Bordeaux’s from 1928 is missing, and Hamid spots it on the table, cork out and just sitting there, open to the elements. “Did you steal my alcohol?”

“Hamid, it’s fine,” Zolf says, also glaring at the stranger on the couch, and Hamid gives him an incredulous look. 

“How is this fine, there’s a strange man in my home, sitting on my couch, drinking a vintage that he didn’t even have the decency to re-cork and he’s -“ 

“Ah, Mr. al Tahan, I presume,” the stranger says, raising fluidly from the sofa and giving a brief incline of his head. “Lovely to make your acquaintance. You have an incredible wine selection.”

“Lovely to - what?” Hamid exclaims, glaring at the stranger. 

“Hamid. Trust me, he’s harmless,” Zolf says, face screwed up in distaste. “Well, not harmless, per se, but harmless enough - anyway, he isn’t a threat. Just a dick.”

“Fine. Fine. I seem to be at a disadvantage,” Hamid manages to say as smoothly as he can muster, nerves still alight. “You know who I am, but I’ve never seen you before in my life, so what are you doing in my home.”

“Hamid, this is Oscar Wilde, local smug arsehole. He’s a git.”

“As your, hm... shall we say, colleague has mentioned, my name is Oscar Wilde, Mr. al Tahan, pleased to be of…” he gives Hamid a long look up and down, eyes pausing on his midriff before they continue back up to meet his eyes. His smile pulls just a little sharper as he holds out a hand. “... service.” 

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Wilde?” Zolf says, crossing his arms. He looks more pissed off than Hamid has ever seen him. Normally, Zolf is relatively mild-mannered, so Hamid’s a bit taken aback to see him looking at Wilde with this much hate and annoyance in his eyes.

“You know him?” Hamid asks.

“Wilde runs the library and the local newspaper here in town,” Zolf explains. “When he’s not busy being an absolute leech.”

Wilde gives a little bow. “You do flatter me, Mr. Smith. And how are you? Vegetables keeping you busy, I suppose? Haven’t seen you around the library much, almost like you’ve been rooted somewhere else,” Wilde says, gaze drifting over to Hamid as the smirk on his face widens.

“Watch it.” Zolf folds his arms over his chest and glares at Wilde. 

Hamid looks between both of them, absolutely lost. “Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?” He tried his best to keep his voice even, but based on the apologetic look Zolf gives him, doesn’t think he succeeded. 

There’s an awkward stalemate where Hamid looks between Zolf and Wilde with confusion, while Wilde looks between him and Zolf with something that might be interest, and Zolf goes back to glaring at Wilde, effectively stonewalling him.

Wilde breaks the silence first. “I’m interested in your story, Mr. al Tahan. This was your grandfather’s shop, until his sudden passing a few years ago. Why are you re-opening it after all these years? It can’t simply be a fond sense of obligation to your… dear, deceased grandfather, can it?”

He leans forward, glint in his eye. “Why the sudden move to Dunnock Town, anyway? All of the news media seem to be radio silent on why you left university - care to elaborate for me?”

Hamid’s stomach drops through the floor. He has no idea how Wilde could know… anything about that, and he ignores the curious and concerned look that he can feel Zolf training on him in favor of pasting on the best approximation of a casual smile. 

“Thank you for the interest, Mister Wilde, but I’m afraid I won’t give out an interview to someone who broke into my home simply to speak with me,” Hamid says firmly. He’s trying not to let Wilde see how much the comment about university has rattled him; his father had paid good money to ensure that none of the news had gotten out, and Hamid has no idea who Wilde might have gotten the information from, or if he even knows anything, or if he’s just trying to get under Hamid’s skin. Regardless, he doesn’t have anything more to say to the man, and he’s rather sure that Zolf is about three seconds away from physically tossing the man out of Hamid’s house (which, considering the foot and change that Wilde has on Zolf, would be interesting to see, and Hamid’s money is on Zolf). 

Wilde seems to sense the tension in the room, and holds his hands up non-threateningly. “Very well, Mr. al Tahan. Do think about my… proposition. I still want to write about your story, after all.”

He winks and then he’s out the front door, which Zolf helpfully slams shut behind him. 

“Dick,” Zolf nearly snarls, and then all of the hate bleeds away from his face as he comes over to Hamid. “Are you alright? Seemed kind of shaken at the end there.”

So, Hamid didn’t hide it as well as he’d wanted to. Damn. He brushes off Zolf’s concern with a light laugh and waves his hand through the air. “It’s fine, just a bit rattled at him getting into the house.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Zolf asks, and the concern on his face is so evident that Hamid almost wants to take him up on the offer.

“No, but you’re very sweet for offering,” he says, and thinks he catches Zolf’s cheeks start to redden before he turns away. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

Zolf doesn’t sound completely convinced when he responds with a quiet, “Alright,” but then he claps Hamid on the shoulder and heads out the door, calling out a quick, “lock up behind me!” as he leaves.

Hamid does, obviously, double checking the front door as well as the door into the store, and not only because he’s worried about the slime (even though Zolf told him it would be fine). Before heading to bed, he re-corks the Bordeaux, looking at it sadly as he realizes he maybe only has two days to drink the vintage before it goes sour.

Damn Oscar Wilde.

—

The second time Hamid is unfortunate enough to run into Oscar Wilde he’s alone, shopping at the grocer’s in town for some food for the week. 

The man in question comes up behind him near-silently while Hamid is trying to decide what ice cream to buy for the week, since game night will be at his place on Thursday, and he’s reaching out to grab the salted caramel for Sasha and Zolf and the lemon sorbet for Azu and Grizzop and himself when there’s a hand on his shoulder and he turns around sharply, letting out a little yelp.

Wilde smirks. “We have to stop meeting like this, Mr. al Tahan.”

Hamid doesn't smile back. “Oscar.”

“Have you had a moment to consider my offer? I would just love to see you spread all over the pages.”

Hamid grimaces at him, refraining from rolling his eyes. “Yes, well, I’m afraid I’m not interested. The shop has been open for months and is doing exceedingly well, so there’s no need for additional praise from your paper.”

He moves to turn around and walk toward the registers, only to find Wilde looking nonchalant as he casually blocks Hamid’s way. 

“Now, the feature wouldn’t only be on the shop. I want to focus on you - I wasn’t lying when -“

“When you broke into my house and opened one of my most expensive bottles of wine,” Hamid says drily. Wilde doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic as he concedes the point with a nod of his head. 

“What I’m saying is that the shop is old news, but you are still… let’s say, a mystery. The people want to know about you, not some old dusty store that you and Mr. Smith fixed up.”

Hamid doesn’t think that the slight tightening of Wilde’s smile at the mention of Zolf is intentional, but he does feel a sense of vindication. 

See: here’s the thing. 

How Hamid feels is nothing compared to how Zolf feels about the man. Hamid thinks the man is incredibly disrespectful, and a waster of good wine, on top of being, well, a relatively pushy arse.

Zolf absolutely hates Wilde, unequivocally, and according to Sasha, had punched him straight in the nose on one occasion, although she won’t tell Hamid why. Hamid thinks he can guess.

(He’d asked why Zolf hated Wilde, once, only for Zolf to shoot a dark glare at the ground and start muttering about boundaries and privacy and how adventuring was a completely legitimate way of making money and something else Hamid couldn’t make out.

At the time he had let it go, until he’d brought up Wilde in front of Sasha while they all were out to lunch and witnessed the sympathetic look she’d given Zolf as his grip on his fork tightened. That had been enough for Hamid to actually do some research on the topic. It hadn’t taken long until Hamid was stumbling onto a topic about the Harlequins guild up near the mines, the one Zolf’s brother ran. The article was incredibly unflattering, and seemed to do nothing more than mock Feryn’s business. After that, Hamid rather understood Zolf’s hatred of the man and revised his own already negative image of Wilde to be, well, more so.)

Wilde is still giving him an expectant look when Hamid finally turns back to look at him, and that stupid smirk hasn’t faded in the slightest. 

Hamid rather likes being one to tell him no, considering that he’s quite certain that Wilde seems to get what he wants more than he doesn’t.

“Again, Oscar, instead of accosting me, make an appointment? Or stop by the shop. I have no desire to halt my errands to give you your next scoop.”

“I will convince you yet, Mr. al Tahan,” Wilde says, a surprising lack of fight for someone who so adamantly has been asking Hamid for an interview, and Hamid pushes his trolley away.

“Yes, of course, good bye Oscar, have a lovely weekend!” Hamid calls as he leaves, feeling Wilde’s piercing gaze on his back. 

—

The third time Hamid sees Oscar Wilde is the time he caves, if only due to absolute irritation and hope that this will finally make Wilde leave him alone. It may be a bit of a futile wish, on his part, as giving Wilde a little bit will just make the man come back for more, but at least he’ll get him off of his back for a while. 

Wilde had come to the shop this time, like any normal customer, and lingered in the back while Hamid rang a few people up. The hustle and bustle of the shop slows to a crawl and Hamid wipes his hands on a towel he keeps behind the counter, deciding to at least go talk to him and get it over with. 

And then, because Hamid’s life isn’t exciting enough for the universe to watch, Zolf chooses that moment to walk into the store, somehow missing Wilde lurking in the corner. He smiles as he sees Hamid, who is doing everything other than giving a panicked look to the corner where Wilde is resting, looking like the cat that got the canary.

“All right, Hamid?” Zolf says, coming up and resting his elbows on the counter as he looks around the room. “Seems like business is booming.” 

“Thanks to you,” Hamid responds, smiling. “Really, Zolf, it wouldn’t be as far along as it would be without your help.”

Zolf laughs, quietly. “This is all you, Hamid. I’m just the muscle.”

“No, Zolf, really,” Hamid says, laying his hand on Zolf’s bicep and squeezing gently. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And, actually, I think we should maybe speak about this in the house, if you go in I’ll follow you in a moment?”

“Actually, I just had a quick question -“

“Well, good afternoon, Mr. Smith,” Wilde says, and Hamid groans, looking up at the ceiling. Zolf tenses next to him and turns around stiffy, glaring at Wilde and crossing his arms. 

“Wilde. Are you here harassing Hamid again? Wasn’t breaking into his home enough? Or are you here for other reasons?”

“I’m just here to ask Mr. al Tahan for an interview, nothing as sordid as you must be picturing. Although, that offer is -“

“Fine. Interview, yes. Fine,” Hamid says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose because god he just wants this entire conversation to be over. Zolf only looks slightly murderous when he looks back up, and it’s more directed at Wilde than it is him, so he figures he’s safe. “You can do your interview. But I get to approve the questions, and I won’t answer any I don’t care to.”

He doesn’t like the glint that appears in Wilde’s eye at that, but there’s nothing he can do now except submit to it and hope that he can keep Zolf from killing Wilde if it comes down to that.

The ‘OPEN’ sign on the front of the door is flipped and Hamid ushers Wilde over to one of the seats in the corner, taking the one opposite as he mentally tries to brace himself. 

The interview itself seems dry. Wilde had asked a few probing questions that Hamid refuses to engage with, and had largely laid off the sensitive topics when Zolf had started loudly sharpening one of the short swords in the corner without taking his eyes off of the back of Wilde’s head. It turns more into questions about Hamid’s grandfather, the shop, and how Hamid likes the town. He can’t bring himself to feel bad when Wilde frowns downs at his notes as the interview ends, clearly disappointed. 

They both rise fluidly from the chairs and Hamid walks him over to the door of the shop, not planning on giving Wilde any more of his time now that the interview has been concluded. 

“One last thing,” Wilde says, before he can step out of the door. “A few pictures of the both of you, for the spread. It can’t simply be words on a page, can it? The patrons have to see the space, see the faces behind it all.”

“Oh - of course, let me just - Zolf, come over here, please?” Hamid calls, and Zolf slowly steps over, still glaring at Wilde. 

“Now, smile.”

“Wait, I’m not -“

“Well, the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot on sight,” Wilde says, smirking as he pulls out a camera and snaps a photo of Hamid and Zolf standing there dumbfounded. “A lovely candid, and I’m sure it rates the front page.”

He hears Zolf grumble under his breath, swearing ferociously, but Hamid just pastes an obviously fake smile on as he reaches past Wilde to open the door. 

“It’s been lovely speaking with you, Oscar, and I’m sure you’ll put a wonderful story together, but it is getting late.”

Wilde tips the imaginary hat he doesn’t have and steps out the door, calling out a jaunty, “Thank you for sharing, Mr. al Tahan,” as he leaves.

“Hey, Wilde?” Zolf calls after him, sounding too innocent for it actually to be so. Wilde seems to catch it as well, but the smile doesn’t fall from his face as he turns around to face Zolf. “If this ends up reflecting badly on Hamid or the shop, I could still drown you in a bucket.”

“A what?” Hamid whispers, leaning closer to make sure he can be heard. Zolf just waves him off, and Hamid steps back, sulking. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Smith.” And then Wilde is off, heading off down the driveway and disappearing behind the bushes while Hamid and Zolf head back into the shop. 

“Do you actually think this is going to backfire?” Hamid asks, genuinely curious. Zolf doesn’t look less annoyed about having had to spend the entire evening with Wilde, but he at least tugs Hamid into a reassuring half hug.

“Nah, he can’t do that much, not with what you gave him. It’ll be fine. Just sorry you had to deal with him.”

Hamid shrugs. “If this gets him off of our backs, it’s a small price to pay.”

Zolf makes a sound of agreement. “Well, I’m off. I’m not joking, either. I’ll have words with Wilde if the article shines a bad light on the work you’ve done.”

Hamid smiles over at him. “Thanks, Zolf.” Zolf squeezes his arm one more time before he heads out as well, starting up the truck and waving as he backs up out of Hamid’s driveway.

Well, Hamid supposes, there’s nothing to do but wait for Wilde to publish the article, and then assist Zolf with drowning the man in a bucket if it comes down to it. Hamid smiles, fondly, and reaches out, flipping the lights off in the store and letting the room plunge into darkness. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love having ‘canon asexual character’ as a tag and respecting creators! anyway would you believe i actually do love oscar wilde he’s just a dick now we’ll get to the fun character growth later 
> 
> also jaime this is for u you know exactly what i’m talking abt
> 
> also also zolf is 100% listening to carly rae jepsen on the radio i will never let this go


End file.
